Mokuba's Story
by AnimeTrekkie
Summary: Seto learns something he never knew before about Mokuba. A one-shot story. No flames, please!


Hi! I'm back, with another short story from Seto Kaiba's point of view! By the way, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Seto or Mokuba or Wal-Mart. Enjoy!

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            I always thought I knew everything.

            Looking back, I guess most of the time I knew pretty much everything that went on around me. But what surprises me most is how little I knew about my own kid brother.

            It was an average day. I went to work, patented a new invention, fired some expendable employees and came home in a bad mood. Like I said, just a typical day. Anyway, when I got home, one of the servants (I don't know who, and I don't care, either) handed me my mail. Nothing really important ever came in the mail (Too risky.  Postal mail is very unreliable), but for some reason I can't explain, I looked though it. There was really nothing but Wal-Mart flyers. I was about to chuck it when I noticed a small white business envelope. It was addressed to Mokuba . I didn't recognize the name of the place in the return address, and I was curious, so I decided to open it. Inside was a neatly typed letter that read:

            _Dear Mr. Kaiba,_

_We are pleased to inform you that your story, The Origin of Darkness, has been selected _

_as__ the winner for the Young Authors of __Japan__ writing contest! Your story will be _

_published__ and sold throughout __Japan__! Please have your parent or guardian fill_

_out__ the enclosed form so we can begin the process!_

            There was more, but I didn't bother to read any of it. My brother, an author?! I never knew he was a brilliant author who just wrote a prize-winning story. I never even knew he liked to write. I never cared, never bothered to ask what his talents and interests were. 

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            When Mokuba came home from his friend's house that night, I confronted him.

            "Mokuba?" 

            "Yes, Seto?"

            I was silent for a moment.

            "What is it, Big Brother?" Mokuba always called me that to make me feel important. For a second, I almost smiled.

            "Why didn't you tell me you liked to write stories?" Mokuba's eyes got wide. Then he replied:

            "You never asked, and I didn't want to bother you. You have more important things to worry about." That comment made a huge wave of guilt swirl in my stomach, and I couldn't contain myself.

            "_Nothing is more important than you! I don't ever want you to feel like there's something you can't tell me! I'm you're big brother. You always come first, understand?" _

            "…Okay. Thanks, Seto. I needed to hear that." Mokuba said, smiling. I coughed and cleared my throat.

            "So, I hear you won a story-writing contest," I said, changing the subject. "May I see your story?"

            "I… I won?" Mokuba gasped. 

            "Yes. Now, may I see the story?" 

            Mokuba nodded slowly before dashing up the stairs. He returned a few minutes later with several overstuffed folders. He thumbed through one of them eagerly. 

            "Here it is," he said, handing me a very thick stack of paper. I took it from him, then plopped down on the nearest sofa to read. Mokuba sat nervously next to me. 

            It took me a while to read his story, but he sat there silently and waited for me to finish. I turned each page carefully, analyzing every word choice and plot twist like some kind of supercomputer. There was nothing to criticize. Everything was practically perfect. The plot was amazing, and the characters were so real. It was an examination of the human soul, both the good and the evil (hence the odd title) that had amazing insight behind it. When I finished, I could hardly say anything. 

            "Well?" inquired Mokuba. "What did you think?" 

            "How long have you been writing?" I asked quietly. Mokuba looked taken aback. Clearly this was not the answer he had expected.

            "Um, a few years, I think… about three or four, maybe." 

            "_Three or fours years!?!?" I exclaimed. How long had I been neglecting him like this?_

            "Yeah…" Mokuba looked down at his feet. 

            "Well," I said, picking up a folder, "I guess I have quite a bit of reading to do."

~The End~

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Okay, I know, it was mushy. But don't flame me, okay? *sniff* I try so hard! But you guys are all kind, wonderful people, right? You wouldn't flame me, right? Oh, thank you!


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